


In My Space

by Puniyo



Series: The Chosen One [3]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Lucas and Eliott are cheesy, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, closure for Lucille's case, fluff until your tooth decays, mention of a manic episode, past relationship talks, scenario for season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: It's Friday night and Le Gang convinces both Lucas and Eliott for a party.ORLucas and Lucille finally have the opportunity for a good talk, the boys get the time of their lives and Eliott is jealous.





	In My Space

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all, I have had a shitty day, the one that you just want to lock yourself in the office restroom and cry until it's time to pick your card to finish your shift, but managed to challenge my energies and write this piece of fluff. I am utterly, completely and absolutely in love with Eliott and his character has really brought me so much joy and solace for my worse days. 
> 
> Since he doesn't have his season (yet), this is a possible scenario for it and hence the screenplay format. 
> 
> Also, I like the character of Lucille quite a lot. She was definitely harsh on Lucas but she was hurt and the samedi scene in which she breaks down but still decides to give advice to Lucas about Eliott shows how big of a heart she has. I have always wished for a proper closure for her character and this is what this plot is about. Besides, Lola (her actress) did an amazing job. Superb I must say.

1\. INT. UNKNOWN ADDRESS. VENDREDI. 22:49.

The last verse of CALL YOUR GIRLFRIEND plays on the improvised sound system on the living room and there is a collective clap accompanying a series of bodies that stop swaying to the remixed tune. A new song pumps up the bass of the speakers but LUCAS barely spends any neural resources to identify it as he scans the space for a certain someone.

It is Friday night and LE GANG managed to have convinced him and ELIOTT to join a party organized by a group of university students, ARTHUR’s acquaintances as the blond boy had cryptically and briefly mentioned on their WhatsApp group. How he had met them in the first place they all questioned, though no answers were given. The promise was that it would be a less wild but still _chanmé_ gathering for cool people, proper alcoholic cocktails and sommelier beers, unspoken but understood joints, and decent company instead of horny high school first years, which had convinced them all to give the affirmative thumbs.

Lucas sat now on the marble kitchen counter, the dark swirls on the surface actual spider web patterns on the slab and not some unidentified organic substance. The sink next to him was filled with empty glass bottles for recycling and the microwave further away was unplugged to avoid accidental drunken cooking adventures. The brunette takes a sip of the fruity, orange-lime punch with a hint of vodka concoction that he had filled right when he arrived, and he scans the living room. There is part of the flat obscured from his view because of the angle he is sitting and the modular wall divider, but his friends are everything but hidden by it. YANN chats in an energetic manner with CHLOÉ who cannot stop bouncing cutely to the music, her cheeks almost the same color of her watermelon blouse. BASILE and DAPHNÉ are the epitome of the romantic comedic couple of a teenage romance movie, whose bodies are pressed together that not even a single sheet of paper could be squeezed in between. Arthur is sitting by the cream leather sofa, probably not so clean by the end of the night, his arms around a pair of twins, their faces identical even the position of the mole right in the middle of the forehead, despite their different genders.

And Eliott. Lucas would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his _mec_. The taller boy had just recovered from a manic episode two weeks ago, one that had him on a quest to perfect the _Star Wars_ theme he was so proud of in the piano at unworldly hours of dawn that the neighbors even threatened to call the police after the third consecutive day and prompted Eliott to try his concert on the church organ. They also had an argument about who should make breakfast, something petty and minimal but Lucas had barely got any sleep besides studying for the stupid mathematic _bac_ and trying to pretend not to be affected by the fact that his father suddenly remembered that he had a son and had requested for a coffee afternoon only to tell him that he was still too young to make any major choices about his sexual and domestic orientations. Lucas and Eliott ended up shouting at each other for burnt toasts and overcooked scrambled eggs with pieces on the shells folded into them.

Foolishly trifling and childish Lucas knows, especially the ascension of _putain_ , _merde_ and a few more expletives from their personal encyclopedias of insults, but he spots his boyfriend in the crowd leaning next to an imitation of a Jackson Pollock’s rendition and all the anger and frustration from the naïve exchange of blasphemy is shoved into the mental drawer of recollections of stories for a good laugh when he and Eliott can’t sleep in the future. And Lucas knows that his partner is thinking of the same, the smile on his face, a halfway between a smirk and a grin, as they lock their gazes on each other now.

Eliott is talking with someone Lucas can’t clearly identify, except the broad, athletic shoulders and ponytail tied with a silk scarf, but he is not interested in being introduced to that girl as well. The warm and dim fluorescent light of the living room is replaced by the blue hues of the intermittent strobe flashes and LOSING MYSELF fills the space. It is almost a déjà-vu, _kiffance_ suddenly at the tip of Luca’s tongue, and he licks his lower lip, very aware that Eliott is not immune to this charm, just like how he almost falls from the counter when the taller boy lowers his head slightly before peeking not so innocently from his eyelashes, a challenge accepted with marine eyes that almost turned gold in the improvised dancefloor.

Lucas skips a breath. Two actually, until Eliott laughs, pretending to be back to the conversation with whoever the girl in front of him is. He is ready to play this game, glass settled on the marble top, hands slightly trembling of excitement and anticipation to snatch Eliott from the ponytail lamppost, when an arm touches his and he almost knocks over his half-finished drink, a few drops spilled to the stainless-steel basin.

 

UNIVERSITY STUDENT

Hey! Not enjoying the party?

 

Lucas turns to the source of the sudden voice on his left side and he is greeted with the sight of a mop of curly hair similar to the one Basile has but extending to his earlobes and a badly shaved beard.

 

LUCAS

Hi. (moving slightly to the side) No, I just needed some fresh air.

 

He knows it is a poor excuse as the smell of cigarettes and weed is stronger on the kitchen but he hopes the other party will get the message.

 

UNIVERSITY STUDENT

So you’re not enjoying the music.

LUCAS

I didn’t say that.

UNIVERSITY STUDENT

It’s rather lonely here in the kitchen by oneself.

LUCAS

I like it this way.

UNIVERSITY STUDENT

I thought you might want some company. (He points to Luca’s glass) Do you want me to bring you another one?

LUCAS

No, I’m fine. (He narrows his eyes and smiles, hoping to hide his growing irritation) I don’t want to kill your fun.

UNIVERSITY STUDENT

Not at all. (Extending his hand) Mael.

 

Lucas shake their hands and he has no idea if the wetness in the other boy’s palm is from the condensation of his beer or sweat. Or both.

 

UNIVERSITY STUDENT/MAEL (CONT’D)

You’re not going to tell me your name?

LUCAS

(releasing himself from the grip)

I thought you had already figured it out.

MAEL

If I guess it right, will you reward me?

LUCAS

I’m no game booth to give out prizes.

MAEL

(smirking like an idiot)

Just one kiss. That’s not asking much, is it?

 

Lucas does not want to be rude although he sees no other escape route from the pestering advances and the last thing he wanted to do was to ruin Eliott’s connections, until Mael flinches and yelps at a playful but hard slap on the back of his neck with a just-out-of-the-fridge gelid gin tonic can.

 

MAEL

What the fuck!?

 

He turns around, ready to spurt a few more curses, when he spots the girl tapping her foot impatiently on the tiled floor. LUCILLE is not smiling, much on the opposite, her face is stoic, on the verge of irritation, and she shakes her head, the single long red feather earring following the swaying motion.

 

MAEL (CONT’D)

What? Don’t tell me he is your new conquest?

LUCILLE

(opening the can as slowly as she can in an ominous like motion)

Not mine. But he is Eliott’s. You might not want to _steal_ from him this time if I were you. Just a friendly reminder.

 

Lucas notices how the older boy clicks his tongue in a mixture of vexation and fear at the mention of his partner’s name, and he leaves, mumbling to himself something neither he nor Lucille can hear, or wished to hear.

 

LUCAS

(his throat goes dry)

Thank you.

LUCILLE

It was nothing. (She leans to the counter, the handle of the drawer nudging against her spine) I don’t know why he invited that jerk anyway.

 

Lucille is exactly how Lucas remembers her, sharp words and edges, perfect posture and an aura of maturity that almost rivalled Madame Rigaux’s. Her hair is longer, slightly draping over her shoulders and the light auburn shade matches with the sunflowers of her one-piece dress. She has always been the ex-girlfriend in his eyes and they had barely spent more than five minutes in such proximity, but Lucas has to admit that she was quite beautiful, exquisite in her blend of innocence and womanhood.

 

LUCILLE (CONT’D)

(not looking at Lucas but at the dancefloor instead)

How is he?

LUCAS

(swallowing dry)

He is fine. Things have been okay.

LUCILLE

Has he had... (she takes a sip, mulling over what words to use)... any serious episodes lately?

 

Lucas mimics her gesture of bringing the glass to his mouth but the alcoholic drink only wets his lips. At the corner of his eyes, he sees that Arthur and the twins have joined Eliott and the trio seemed to talk with their hands more than their vocal cords. It calms him somehow and Lucas sees no need to lie to Lucille.

 

LUCAS

Once. Last month. But it’s already gone.

LUCILLE

How about you?

LUCAS

(a little taken aback)

Me?

LUCILLE

(smiling gently)

How are you Lucas?

 

She finally looks at Lucas, not an ounce of malice or rancor in her irises. Perhaps a tinge of guilt and remorse but Lucas knows that the concern laced with care on her hazelnut eyes is genuine, and he retributes the smile.

 

LUCAS

(fidgeting with his fingers)

It was tough in the first day. He lied to me about skipping the studio, he was being extra picky with making a buffet at home but not eating anything afterwards. I was too stressed with the damn quadratic functions and–

LUCILLE

(playful tone)

Oh, do they still torture clueless high school students with all those imaginary numbers?

LUCAS

You have no idea.

 

They both giggle subtly, some sort of accepted understanding filling the space between them.

 

LUCAS (CONT’D)

Thank you for your advice. From before.

LUCILLE

(shaking her head)

You’re doing well Lucas. He makes mistakes, you make mistakes, but you’re both learning from them. You’re really not like all the others.

 

A young man dancing (as in hopping from step to step) waves in their direction, signaling for Lucille to meet him on the living room. He is probably older than they are by a couple of years, slack pants and tucked, ironed shirt despite being at a party, and a radiant, coral lipstick smile flashes on Lucille’s face. She propels herself from the counter and Lucas nods, acknowledging her cue to leave.

 

LUCILLE (CONT’D)

I’m happy for Eliott. I’m also happy for you, Lucas. You’re special. I’m happy for the two of you. Really.

 

She extends her cocktail can and Lucas clinks his glass at it in an unspoken ‘cheers’.

 

LUCAS

I’m happy for you too, Lucille.

 

Her lean silhouette soon mingles in the crowd of erratic bodies, a pair of arms around her waist and a soft kiss on her cheek. Time never stops and with the tickling of the clock, the hours sweep the dust in one’s life so they can see the light again. Lucas is truly elated that Lucille had found her happiness in this universe, the initial uneasiness in his chest now replaced by a steady warmth, and even more when Eliott enters the kitchen, slightly flushed from the residual heat of the party, the thin turtle neck sweater Lucas had chosen for him, and his own natural high body temperature.

The older boy settles between Lucas’ legs, their difference in height a little accentuated and the jittery hedgehog tilts his head for a kiss. Eliott buries his palms in Lucas’ unruly almond strands that reminded him of the magic of falling leaves in Autumn, his favorite season, and he complies almost immediately, locking their lips together, their tongues offering zesty orange and burnt vanilla.

Lucas Lallemant and Eliott Demaury are happy in this universe. This one and all the others, now and in the infinite.

 

ELIOTT

(opening his eyes but sealing their foreheads together)

_Ça va?_

 

Lucas still has his eyes closed and hums affirmatively. He tentatively licks the trail of saliva on Eliott’s lower lip, breaking into giggles when his boyfriend does so too.

 

ELIOTT (CONT’D)

Conspiring against me with Lucille?

LUCAS

(opening his eyes and nodding)

You might need a bodyguard from now on.

ELIOTT

If only height wasn’t a requirement–

 

Lucas mockingly punches the taller boy on the navel, only to have his wrists caught in the process. Eliott holds them with the utmost care, drawing circles on the inside patches of skin, right above the veins and arteries, the caress so soft it almost tickles.

 

LUCAS

Have you talked to her since that day?

ELIOTT

(nodding)

Yes... No. I mean... (he takes a deep breath)... we have talked but not really.

LUCAS

Why?

ELIOTT

Because... (he drops his gaze, hesitating for a few seconds before focusing his aquamarine orbs on Lucas)... I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.

 

This time it is Lucas who inverts the grip of their hands, he bringing Eliott’s to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on his ink-smeared knuckles.

 

LUCAS

You two were friends. More than friends.

ELIOTT

It’s all in the past.

LUCAS

I know. (He places another kiss) I know, but you two had a long history together and I don’t want you to erase those memories. She is your past, but I am your present.

ELIOTT

And my future.

LUCAS

And your future. (He smiles to himself, content, a little smug too, his feet dangling and tapping on the doors of the lower cupboards) And your future? How about my future? You’re so–

ELIOTT

(leaning closer again, his voice getting deeper)

So what?

LUCAS

So presumptuous and cheesy, _Monsieur Eliott Demaury_.

 

Eliott’s laughter on Lucas’ ears is everything but a roar of mirth. It is a puff of air that lingers just the right seconds, throaty and seductive, plucking from the younger man a shudder of desire. He closes his eyes briefly, also just the right seconds to savor the promise for the night, later when they are alone in their own world, and Lucas’ reply is an almost mute moan, one that resonates through Eliott’s bones.

 

ELIOTT

(still in a low tone)

I was dreading you would get jealous.

 

Lucas knows that’s a lie. He knows perfectly well how his partner loves to see him worked up.

 

LUCAS

You’re the possessive one here.

ELIOTT

What if I am?

LUCAS

(dodging from a kiss and chuckling as Eliott almost trips forward)

Is this because of that guy from before? I know you saw us.

ELIOTT

(repeating himself)

What if I am jealous?

LUCAS

Silly.

ELIOTT

I prefer _chelou._

 

When Lucas is with Eliott, he feels invincible, at the top of the world and above the clouds, just like now as he pulls the taller boy, hair ruffled, to his embrace, the garment of their clothes sticking to their skin with sweat as their mouths meet anew.

 

ELIOTT (CONT’D)

(slightly out of breath)

Let’s go home.

LUCAS

But it’s raining outside.

ELIOTT

What? Are you afraid of the rain now?

 

Lucas swears he never wants to see the smile in Eliott’s face now ever fade away. By the time Le Gang arrives at the kitchen to discuss their weekend plans, the two of them had already sneaked out of the house stealthily, perhaps the steps of their dashing pace echoing through the streets.

It is raining heavily indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback much appreciated ^^
> 
> And I apologize that I know basically nothing regarding manic episodes and the different manifestations of mania so please forgive me.


End file.
